Terminal Report
by Cameron Dial
Summary: The Watchers learn that Adam Pierson is an immortal following his run-in with Morgan Walker.


**Terminal Report**

**_by Cameron Dial_**

Disclaimer: "Highlander" and its associated names, trademarks and characters are the property

of Davis/Panzer Productions, Inc., which reserves all copyrights. This story is

for entertainment purposes only. No monetary compensation is received by the author.

No copyright infringement is intended.

_I know it's their sandbox. I just dropped by to play._

October 31, 1998

        Amy Thomas scanned the pages for errors one at a time as her bubble jet printer cranked them out. It was almost noon—later than she'd intended to start working on the terminal report for Morgan Walker, but it had been a late night. 

        Walker had forced her to accompany him to the abandoned power station and then shoved her onto the second-floor platform, a gun to her head. Waiting for them had been the Immortal Walker knew as Dr. Benjamin Adams—the man Walker had forced Joe Dawson to trick into accompanying him so Walker could take his head and quickening. The man Joe Dawson had agreed to trade for his daughter's life.

        Adams was narrow—slender and angular and hard somehow, with short dark hair and a sharply planed face, hooded eyes dark in the shadows of the deserted building and nothing showing in his face. If she hadn't known he was an Immortal she'd have placed his age at about thirty. Walker claimed acquaintance—and a grudge—from the early 1800s, which meant Adams was at least 200 years old, for all that he was dressed like any man of her own time. Black hiking boots, black jeans, black sweatshirt, black calf-length overcoat—they all made his pale complexion look all the more bleached. Walker, on the other hand, was dressed all in white—a nice little irony, considering that it was the _good guy_ who was supposed to wear white. Assuming, of course, that Adams _was_ the good guy.   
        "Voila," Adams had said, greeting Walker with the barest of nods. He'd glanced at Amy and smiled slightly, as if it amused by Walker's choice of shields, and her belly had cramped in on itself in fear.   
        This man cared nothing for her. He didn't even _know_ her. Still—Walker had spoken as if Adams and Joe had a personal relationship that could be stretched to Amy, and she knew Joe's reputation as an oath breaker. In fact, _everyone_ in the Watchers knew that Joe had broken his oath and revealed himself and the organization to Duncan MacLeod several years ago—she'd just never suspected that Joe might be on a friendly basis with more than one Immortal.   
        Adams glanced at Amy, smiling slightly, appearing to dismiss her in the same instant. "Three's a crowd, Walker," he said. The message was clear: _Get rid of the baggage so we can get down to business._   
        "Where's Dawson?" Walker snapped, and Amy's heart leaped as Joe stepped out from behind a bank of storage batteries.   
        "I'm right here," he'd said clearly.   
        "Joe." Her father's name had been automatic, and Walker's grip on her upper arm had tightened painfully.   
        "You were supposed to shoot him," Walker had pointed out, and Joe's smile had been strained.   
        "Like I said: Life is full of disappointment."   
        "Drop the gun or I kill her," Walker had said pleasantly.   
        "If you shoot her," Joe had replied, "I will shoot you. And I will make _sure_ the doctor takes your head."   
        Amy had swallowed. _Stand-off_, she remembered thinking. At that moment Adams had drawn a broadsword from inside his coat with a gesture that looked almost leisurely, the slide of steel on steel producing a clear, ringing note that had sent a shiver up Amy's spine.   
        His face expressionless, Adams had looked at Amy. "Take a walk, Joe," he'd said easily. "Take Amy with you. This is between me and him."   
        "That's all I've ever wanted," Walker had replied, shoving Amy away from him.   
She'd stumbled toward Joe, breathing deeply when his arms went around her. For a moment she'd clung to him, eyes closed, wanting nothing more than the comfort of being held. He'd gently disentangled her arms from around him then, and nodded toward Adams. "I'll see you later," Joe had said, and the Immortal had nodded. She was almost sure he'd smiled, too, at least slightly, perhaps even sadly. Together, she and Joe had walked toward the edge of the platform and then down the stairs, with Joe moving heavily in front of her.   
        A part of her had wanted to stay, to watch the confrontation to the death between the Immortals. Slime bucket though he was, Walker was _her_ Immortal, and it was her job to record whatever happened between the two of them. She also had Joe to worry about, though, and her relief at being out of Walker's immediate reach was so palpable she'd been grateful for the fresh air outside even as she'd heard their blades crashing one against the other. It had suddenly occurred to her that Walker could _win_ this fight and she'd started, something in her expression or attitude communicating itself unerringly to Joe.   
        "It'll be all right," Joe had said. He'd smiled slightly and she'd looked at him, aware that—for him at least—this confrontation meant possibly losing a friend. A friend who had, from all appearances, quite willingly walked into this place of possible death to guarantee Joe Dawson's life and hers. A friend whose abilities Joe felt confident enough about that he never even suggested they leave the site.   
        In all, it had taken less than five minutes for Adams to join them in the parking lot.

        And that, of course, left her the problem of the terminal report. _October 30, 1998. Morgan Walker, Immortal, beheaded by an Immortal Walker had previously identified as Dr. Benjamin Adams. _ She'd checked the Watcher database already and found no listing for Benjamin Adams—she'd even considered asking Joe about him, but had decided it would be rude with Adams sitting in the back seat of the car. Odd, to feel constrained by something as common as courtesy. She'd had no difficulty being rude to Walker when he'd threatened her life, certainly, but Adams was different—in all likelihood he'd _saved_ her life—and the fact that he was obviously Joe's friend made her feel awkward and out of place, wondering what they shared that she could not.   
        They'd wound up at Le Blues Bar well after last call, just the three of them, all nice and cozy—Joe, Amy, and one of Joe's Immortal friends. It had been positively eerie, knowing that the man had cut another man's head off with a sword less than an hour before, and there he'd been, calmly pouring Scotch for himself and Joe as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened, lifting the bottle in her direction in a silent question, one eyebrow cocked as she shook her head in mute refusal.   
        Embarrassing, too, to have spoken so candidly with Joe, knowing all the while that Adams was in the room, apparently already well aware of their father/daughter relationship. Was that why he'd risked his life for her? Because she was Joe Dawson's daughter? Walker had presumed Adams' relationship with Joe would stretch to Amy and he'd been right, though she doubted he'd known the reason why.   
        What was it Joe had said? _I thought I might give this fatherhood thing a shot._   
        It was too much too soon, though, and he'd seen it in her eyes. She did want to establish a relationship with him, but the guilt she'd unexpectedly felt had been choking, as if making a place for Joe in her life somehow meant rejecting the man who'd raised her and whom she still thought of as her dad. It had been too much. 

        "Someday," Joe had said, "when you're ready."   
        She'd nodded, fighting tears. She needed time, that was all, time and space to work things out. Maybe, with Walker dead, she'd take a leave of absence, go back home to England for a bit. "Maybe," she'd said quietly. Then, smiling, a little stronger, she'd said, "Good-bye, Joe."   
        "Good-bye, honey," he'd said, and she'd walked quickly out of the bar before she lost her nerve altogether, not daring to meet Benjamin Adams' eyes as she left.

        Sighing, she scanned the report again. Dr. Benjamin Adams, seen by this Watcher in the company of Watcher Joe Dawson. White male, European extraction—dark hair, eyes not quite as dark as she'd originally thought (she'd settled for writing "brown," a nice ubiquitous word, suitable for all occasions). Height, approximately 6'0'-6'2" (she'd always been awful at guessing height), slender build, no obvious distinguishing scars. Slight, cultured accent, possibly British, seemingly well educated, apparent physical age between 25 and 35. Assumed history with Walker places actual age at 200+ years. _Lord._ She hoped no one would seriously attempt to identify the man based on her description. If left her questioning her ability to describe _anything_. She was tempted to add "prominent nose" and decided against it, not wanting to be laughed off the planet. Oddly enough it_ had_ been prominent when seen in profile; otherwise it had seemed perfectly proportioned to him, a part of the whole. She added a note that no Benjamin Adams appeared in the Watcher database and signed the report, folding it in thirds to slip it into the envelope she'd already addressed to headquarters.

November 2, 1998

_        October 30, 1998. Morgan Walker, Immortal, beheaded by an Immortal Walker had previously identified as Dr. Benjamin Adams._   
  


        Dr. Amy Zoll frowned, running her index finger down the rest of the page.   
  


_        Dr. Benjamin Adams seen by this Watcher in the company of Watcher Joe Dawson_._ White male, European extraction—dark hair, brown eyes, height, approximately 6'0'-6'2", slender build, no obvious distinguishing scars. Slight, cultured accent, possibly British, seemingly well educated, apparent physical age between 25 and 35. Assumed history with Walker places actual age at 200+ years. No Benjamin Adams appears in the Watcher database._   
  


        Amy Thomas' terminal report on Morgan Walker had crossed Dr. Zoll's desk in response to her request for field reports mentioning Joe Dawson in conjunction with_ any_ Immortal, known or unknown. It paid to tread carefully where Joe Dawson was concerned since the man was a known oath breaker who maintained a personal relationship with Duncan MacLeod, an Immortal who was well known among the Watchers. As a result of that association Dawson had gained a curious reputation among his fellow Watchers and was seen with a mixture of awe and contempt, depending on who one asked. At the moment, though, Zoll was more interested in the fact that Dawson was known to have associated both professionally and personally with Adam Pierson.   
        Since Pierson's resignation Zoll had been pursuing some rather interesting avenues of research, some of which appeared, at least on the surface, to be only peripherally related to Methos, the stated focus of her work. It had begun, actually, with an Immortal named Kalas who, like Zoll, had been on the trail of Methos, although with different goals in mind. Kalas, of course, had been after the head of the oldest of the Immortals. Zoll would be happy merely to identify the man. What was interesting was that various Immortals who were part of MacLeod's circle had been reported as being seen with an unidentified white male of the same general description what's her name—Amy Thomas—had given in her terminal report on Morgan Walker. In fact, Kristin had been killed by an Immortal of the same general description.  And the same Immortal—or one who looked very much like him—had just killed Morgan Walker. And the more Zoll studied the various field reports, the more she became convinced that the least likely of all scenarios was, in fact, true.   
        "Would you have Ms. Thomas come in, please, Carole?"   
        Zoll's voice came through the intercom on her secretary's desk clearly enough, and Amy Thomas exchanged a wavering smile with Carole Marmion as she rose and moved toward the door connecting the front office to Zoll's own on the second floor of the Watchers' Expansion Office.   
        "Please, sit down," Zoll said, gesturing to the only guest chair in the office.   
        Amy perched carefully on the forward edge of the wooden chair, feeling as if she'd been called in for a scolding at school.   
        "I've been looking at your terminal report on Morgan Walker," Dr. Zoll said, "and I would like for you to help me identify the Immortal you described." This as she laid out eight photographs for Amy to examine, all showing white males of the same apparent age, coloration and body type.   
        It took less than three seconds. Amy Thomas' gaze swept across the photographs and she reached without hesitation for three of them. "This man," she said, handing the stacked pictures to Zoll.   
_        Adam Pierson._ "And you're sure he's an Immortal."   
        It was a statement, not a question, and Amy Thomas nodded. "Walker challenged him at the abandoned power station outside Chartres a few days ago," she said. "I didn't see the actual fight, but this is the man I saw, and Walker never came out of the building. I should have gone in, I suppose, to verify the kill."   
        "I think we can let the observed facts speak for themselves," Dr. Zoll said.   
_        Thank God for that_, Amy thought, because there were about a million things she hadn't included in the report.   
        "Your report said you checked Walker's chronicles," Zoll said.

        "Yes," Amy Thomas replied.  "In 1809 he's described as challenging a Dr. Benjamin Adams in New Orleans. Adams refused the challenge. Apparently this is the same man.  That makes Adams at least 200 years old. I don't know why he refused the challenge back then. He seemed . . . very capable. And he did win, after all."   
        Two hundred years old and he'd been a Watcher for almost a decade before resigning in 1995. And for three of those years Zoll had occasionally worked side by side with him on the Methos Chronicles.  It was enough to make her sick to her stomach. "Thank you," Dr. Zoll said cooly. She stood and offered her hand in parting. "Thank you for your assistance. I'll be in touch if there's anything else."

        "You're sure of this?" Irene Fiedler asked Zoll later that afternoon.

        "Yes, Tribune."

        Fiedler pursed her lips, studying the pages before her. _Adam Pierson an Immortal. It did seem the inevitable conclusion, based on the information Amy Zoll had amassed. _ "It's too much, I suppose, to hope he's just recently _become_ Immortal?"

        "The most likely scenario is that he's at least 200 years old," Zoll said. "It appears he's the same Immortal who refused a challenge from Morgan Walker in 1809. At that time he was called 'Benjamin Adams.' I ran a quick check through the database and found no other references to that exact name, but there_ is _a reference to a 'Dr. Adams'—no first name specified—who was associated with Byron less than a decade later."

        "Byron's Watcher described an unknown Immortal who was known to both Byron and MacLeod if I recall correctly." 

        "Yes, Tribune. MacLeod killed Byron, but Pierson and MacLeod remained friends. It appears Joe Dawson was deeply involved with both Pierson and MacLeod at that time, too, incidentally. And then Morgan and Pierson encountered each other again just a week ago and he couldn't—or didn't—avoid the confrontation this time."

        "Because Joe Dawson asked him to take Walker out of the game."

        "I don't know that for a fact, but it seems a reasonable conclusion."

        Fiedler drummed her fingers lightly on the table top. A 200-year-old Immortal recruited into the Watchers. Merciful God, he probably wet himself laughing at the irony. So why had he resigned? And once he'd resigned, why had he stayed close enough to Duncan MacLeod and Joe Dawson to be tracked? It was at least interference and very likely treason for Dawson to have concealed the fact that Adam Pierson was an Immortal—so why had he done it?

        "Thank you, Dr. Zoll," Fiedler said. "I appreciate you bringing this to my attention."

        "I--"

        "I'll be in touch, Dr. Zoll," Fiedler said. "I needn't remind you, I suppose, to keep this in absolute secrecy? I'll want to consult with the rest of the Tribunal before any action is taken on the matter. You may go now."

Amy Zoll opened her mouth to speak and then closed it. "Yes, Tribune," she said. She shut the door quietly on her way out of the room.

* * * * *

        "What can I get you, Irene?" Joe Dawson asked.

        They'd known each other half their lives, so he could be forgiven a bit of familiarity outside the office; besides which, it was nice, once in a while, to hear her name instead of being called "Tribune" all the time, with all the bowing and scraping that entailed. Joe Dawson had a healthy respect for the Watchers' Tribunal, but he was not a man to bow or scrape, especially on home ground.

        "Just coffee, please, Joe."

        "Caffeine'll keep you awake."

        She smiled. "Good. I figure I've got at least another two hours of reports in front of me."

        He filled a cup for her and one for himself as well. It was well after last call, with just him and Irene remaining in the bar since he'd sent the night bartender home about the time the First Tribune had walked through the door.

        "So. What's up?"

        Fiedler sipped from the white ceramic mug, enjoying the warmth of the coffee on her lips and in her mouth, and the resulting warmth that spread throughout her as she swallowed. "Adam Pierson's been identified as an Immortal."

        "Hmm."

        "I take it this isn't a shock to you."

        "Did you expect it to be? No. I've known for several years."

        "Since Kalas."

        "Yeah. MacLeod told me. He seemed to think it was pretty damn funny, actually, me asking him to keep an eye on a Watcher who turned out to be an Immortal."

        "You should have reported it, Joe."

        "I know. I thought about it."

        "But you decided not to. Why?"

        "Right after Don Salzer was killed, Pierson came to me and asked me not to expose him. He was determined to put Kalas in jail, and he did. It seemed just to me at the time, a measure of vengeance for Don. Most importantly, though, I was afraid Pierson would disappear. So I--"

        "You became his Watcher as well as Duncan MacLeod's."

        _Well . . . yeah. Not that he'd ever thought of it in exactly those words. _And not that there wasn't a bit more to it than that—after all, Adam Pierson was also Methos, but Joe didn't figure Irene needed to know that in this context or at this particular moment.

        "And you used Pierson to take Morgan Walker out of the game."

        "No. I mean, taking Walker out of the game was never my goal _per se_. Walker had kidnapped a young woman, a Watcher, and he sure as hell wasn't going to let her go because I said 'please.' It's true, though, that Pierson killed Walker to secure the young woman's release, and he did it as a favor to me."

        "Because you're friends."

        Joe hesitated, then shrugged. "That was part of it." _Maybe most of it, in fact. With Methos, it was hard to tell._ He sighed and stooped, letting Irene watch him spin the safe's knob and then lift several leather-bound 3-ring notebooks out. "Here," he said. "I was working on these earlier." He slid the stack of notebooks toward her.

        Silently, she flipped through several of them, scanning the pages rapidly, and then her eyes met his again. "Adam Pierson's Chronicles," she said.

        Joe nodded. "Started shortly after Don Salzer was killed by Kalas," he said.

        "You know Pierson's over 200 years old."

        _Well over. _"He told me."

        Fiedler sighed. It was unorthodox, but it was possible that a personal relationship between a Watcher and his subject—within limits, of course—had the potential to reshape how Immortals were seen in general. It doubtless had the potential to contribute far more information to the Watcher Chronicles than the customary _went here, did that_ type of reporting that predominated. "All right," Fiedler said. "Since he's been officially identified he has to be entered on the database." Her mouth quirked, and for a moment Joe thought she was going to laugh out loud, but all she said was, "See if you can resist actually telling him that, would you, Joe?" She shook her head as she rose, sliding the journals back across the bar to him. "Lock these up again," she ordered. "We'll be appointing an official Watcher, of course, but I'll make sure it's someone you can work closely with." She drained the coffee from her cup and moved toward the door. "Oh, and Joe--" she stopped, her hand on the door. "I see no reason for you to cease your . . . direct . . . observations of the subject."

        _Totally unorthodox_, Irene Fiedler thought, _but if it wasn't broken you didn't fix it_. What was the name of the Watcher who had identified Pierson from Zoll's photographs? _Thomas. Amy Thomas._ And she was free at the moment, since she'd just handed in Morgan Walker's terminal report. It wouldn't hurt her, either, to spend a bit more time under Joe Dawson's supervision.

        Fiedler pulled her cell phone out of her coat pocket as she slid back into her car and punched the quick dial button that connected her to Watcher Headquarters, accessing her secretary's voice mail. She left a message to have Amy Thomas assigned as Adam Pierson's official Watcher, reporting directly to Joe Dawson. That done, she started the car's engine and headed home for yet another cup of coffee and another hour of two of reports. 

The End


End file.
